


From Dusk to Dawn

by Infinite_Hours



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Goats, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Other, Spoilers, Trauma, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23343163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infinite_Hours/pseuds/Infinite_Hours
Summary: Rivenspire spoilers and Daggerfall Covenant questline spoilers (specifically Stormhaven and main quest with Molag Bal).I had plot bunny idea of a conversation concerning my traumatized Vestige about Molag Bal. I say traumatized because...let's be honest here.  The amount of stuff the Vestige goes through is alarmingly dark at times.Edit:  New chapter! I am continuing on with the Rivenspire storyline
Comments: 16
Kudos: 25





	1. Ch 1: Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> ZOS owns Elder Scrolls Online. I am not related or involved with ZOS in any way, shape or form. 
> 
> I did like the ideas behind the Rivenspire storyline, even if I did not always like the execution. Leave a comment if you enjoyed! 
> 
> It wasn't until I got to Rivenspire that I recognized the perfect situation this conversation could take place, and that the Count Ravenwatch's status as a vampire who received his vampirism directly from Molag Bal (only to turn around and embrace morality) added an extra layer of meaning here. I hope that explains why I did this in the specific way that I did.
> 
> I’m actually not done with this story. It’s still got another part to it that I just haven’t had the inspiration to write yet. 
> 
> This is my character Elyssa. A Breton Templar. She's the youngest of my line-up *(only 18), and that distinction is important. Naive and more than a little too trusting. She's also probably the only one who would purposely go out of her way just to coax a bunch of vampires into letting her stay the night, if only for the "coolness" factor of getting to stay the night at a vampire castle.
> 
> Vampires, and their abilities, are they themselves almost representations of Molag Bal's whole concept of domination and submission. I like that bit of symbolism. I don't think this particular story would have had as much of an impact otherwise.
> 
> It's canon that there are different strains of vampires and that they can do different things depending on the strain. What's not entirely clear to me is how those mechanics always work (because we don't always see them in game), so forgive me for making a few things up. Additionally, ZOS confirmed they were changing how the feeding animation looks to something "more traditional" so I'm assuming we're going to get people biting necks in the update. Which is a lot better than the weird ridiculous looking funnel of blood, if I’m being honest here. 
> 
> I don't think Elyssa knows what stained glass looks like, and I can't imagine the Count would care enough to correct her. 
> 
> Another purpose of this story was I wanted to think of an explanation for why the Count sometimes seemed...irritated a lot of the time. 
> 
> Content warnings: A little bit of Molag Bal torture going on here, ensuing trauma. Vampire biting. Otherwise I can’t think of anything.

“Difficulty sleeping?” 

Those were the first words out of his mouth the moment she stepped lightly into the study. Even without turning around, even without her making a sound, he seemed to be keenly aware she was there. It might have been unnerving if she didn’t know anything about him. 

“Nightmares,” was her reply, the shadow of a sad smile coming and going on her lips. 

He nodded silent acknowledgement as she took one of the carved wooden seats available. For a moment, she watched him as he stood with his back to her; he was stock still, almost statue-like, save for the occasional instance in which he turned the page. He wore a different set of mage’s robes than he did earlier. It was similarly a deep, dark grey, but this one had a few threads of red woven in a delicate pattern across the length of it.

“I suppose it quite normal for a mortal to have those when staying in a place like this.” 

He said it flatly, and it was difficult for her to work out whether he was irritated at the idea or resigned to it.

“I assure you, my lord Count,” she responded carefully in turn. “I’ve been having nightmares long before I accepted your very generous offer to spend the night.”

Platitudes. That was surely the best way to handle a noble, undead or not, right?

“But if it is at all upsetting to you that I’m here,” she continued, hastily, “It would be a simple thing to pack my affects and travel to Shornhelm.”

He shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. I am not bothered. And it is likewise too dangerous to travel the roads at this time at night.”

His eyes still never seemed to pry themselves away from his research as he propped open another tome on top of a large pile of books that conveniently reached his height. 

“Vampires hunt best at this time, I’m sure.” she said, off-handedly, her fingers dancing through the length of her reddish brown hair that was now free of her usual, careful braid. 

“There’s no sun to burn our skin, and our eyes are much better attuned to the dark than a mortal’s. The bloodfiends, who are nothing more than feral members of our kind, operate much the same. So long as the people stay indoors and within the city walls, they should be safe. But a lone traveler, even on horseback, may offer up a too tempting target for them to resist. You’d be snatched in the gloom and none would hear of it until the morning.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that, though in her mind’s eye she played out a scene with her own mangled corpse lying by the side of the road. Pale, glassy-eyed, bite-ridden and completely drained of blood. She scowled at the thought, and shifted in her chair.

“It may not come down to that,” She said, her voice lacking the confidence she’d hoped for, “I’d say I’m pretty good at fighting bloodfiends; and, in fact, I’ve already fought some of them at night...”

“I don’t doubt that, Elyssa. But is there any real reason to risk yourself unnecessarily? Stay here for the night, and I promise you can leave in the morning. As early as it takes the sun to rise to the sky and offer you its protection.”

Her scowl deepened. Did he think she was scared to spend the night at his home-castle-place-thing? She knew that he was probably used to being a little bit defensive when it came to dealing with others (and that it was kind of her fault for somewhat insisting on staying to begin with), but he can’t honestly think she’d lost her nerve, could he?

“Count Verandis. I seem to have accidentally given you the impression that I’m uncomfortable here or that I desperately wish to leave if only you’d allow me. Trust me when I say, if I was that desperate or felt like I was in that much danger, I would have already broken one of your pretty stained glass windows and JUMPED myself to freedom.”

She gestured towards the entryway. “Although I’d probably just try the front door first. Something tells me you wouldn’t stop me, even if you _do_ think it’s foolhardy for a mortal to be prancing about in the dead of night.”

He still didn’t turn away from his books, but from the angle of where she sat she could see the edge of his mouth twitching into, what she’d hope, was something akin towards a smile. Or maybe that was just a trick of the light.

“I appreciate your consideration for my family home. Stained glass is difficult to procure these days.”

She smiled at that (he HAD made a joke, right? That was meant as a joke, wasn’t it?), and adjusted herself so that she was lounging a bit in the chair. Difficult to do, since the wood wasn’t exactly comfortable. Her plain beige dress, what she usually wore to sleep, wasn’t padded enough to act as a cushion either. She frowned for the third time that night, and straightened back up. 

“Do you want me to leave you to your studies?” She asked politely, just as the thought occurred to her. It would act as an excuse to go back to the upstairs bedroom; one of the few rooms that actually _had_ a bed in the entire castle.

“It’s not necessary.” He stated. 

She waited a moment.

“…May I ask a question?”

“If you insist.” Again, in that flat, dull tone of his that never seemed to hold much emotion. 

“Are you always thirsty?”

This gave him pause, and she could see a few of his fingers ghosting over the latest text he held open before committing to turning another page.

“At some level, yes. But if you’ve practiced for as long as I have and feed regularly, it’s barely noticeable.”

“So me being in this room for you is, thankfully, not distracting?”

“Your presence isn’t, no.”

Her eyes narrowed in on the back of his head. He was possibly, in a roundabout way, implying that her comments _were_ distracting. It was another one of those statements that made it hard for her to figure out whether he was pissed off, slightly annoyed, or just bored.

“Would you like a bite?” She suddenly asked.

“What?” This time, he DID look up. Even more, he turned to stare at her with something akin to surprise.

She sat to attention with a triumphant smirk. “Finally, a normal emotional reaction!”

And with that proclamation, his expression hardened and he returned to his books.

“I do not have time for childish endeavors, Elyssa.” He said sourly.

“You just seem so….I don’t know. Detached. Either that, or irritated at everyone all the time. It’s hard to tell with you. I think that may be the bulk of the reason why a lot of people may be uncomfortable around you. It’s rather nice to see you actually have some…well… _life_ left in you.”

“When you’ve lived as many years as I have, my child, and watched just as many of your friends age and die…short-lived humans, no less…people you’ve formed attachments to and cared for, again and again…You find ways of…removing yourself from all of it. If only to ensure that it need not affect you as hard each time.”

Elyssa considered this. “So…when you say you ‘care’ about the people of Rivenspire—“

“I _do_ care,” He snapped his latest book shut and spun to face her. “I may not be able to feel as deeply as a mother who lost her first child, but _I do care_ about what happens to the people of Rivenspire. I still remember what it was like to lose family, to lose loved ones, the _depths_ of that pain. Even if I cannot experience it fully for myself anymore, I remember enough to never wish it upon anyone else. This is why I detest the idea of ever sharing this gift of mine; inflicting it upon others so that they would have to spend decades just learn how to control their despair enough to _function_. Can you fathom, can you even imagine, the maddening realization that most everyone you love will soon wither and fade _except yourself_?”

He approached her at her chair, and though his voice still held that air of mild detachment, his glowing red eyes seemed to burn all the brighter with an inner light.

“You’re correct in the sense that I do have difficulties expressing this. That I no longer have the capabilities to show others, in any genuine way, the measure of my desire to help. Mortals rely so much on interpreting emotions through body language and tone of voice, and I am far beyond the point where I can easily weep in the presence of those who are weeping…or even do a decent attempt at trying.”

As he came to stop in front of her, he actually knelt to the ground. To her level. Eye to eye.

“There’s a reason, in my belief, why the divines would dictate life to be so short and sweet. Those of us who are cursed to live longer than normal risk… _losing_ things in the process. I often find myself wanting to socialize with mortals just to get some of that back. A sense of personhood and direction. Passions and strivings. It’s truly remarkable to see reminders of how easy it comes to you.”

He carefully reached out his hand towards her cheek, as though she represented this. As though she were a symbol of this very discussion. Just as the tips of cold fingers brushed against her skin, she turned her head just a tad in an attempt to see it in her peripheral. It was difficult to say whether he interpreted that as a flinch or he suddenly remembered himself, but he withdrew his hand again. 

“I apologize.” He said, getting up and returning once more to the bookshelves. “I did not mean to touch you without permission.”

“What? My cheek? That’s not a crime.” Elyssa replied, still trying to absorb everything he just told her. 

“Countess Tamrith would likely disagree with that assessment.”

“Countess Tamrith isn’t here. And before you go back to your no-doubt riveting literature, I should tell you that I was genuine in offering my blood to you.”

He turned once more to her, an eyebrow delicately raised in questioning. 

“Is that so? I believe the good Countess would now consider _you_ to have committed a sin.” He asked, and his eyes stared straight at hers for a good measure.

For her part, believing that he was testing her resolve, she sat up straighter and met his gaze head on.

The room was silent for a moment. 

He took a tentative step towards her, and she was a little ashamed that the unexpected movement caused her to flinch. He stopped at the sight.

“We do not usually find people who willingly volunteer so soon after finding out about our condition. Are you sure?”

“Y-Yes.”

“You certainly do not sound it.”

Elyssa huffed out the breath she’d been accidentally holding. “Well…it isn’t as though I get bitten by a vampire every other day. I’m not sure what to expect. Does it hurt?”

“It’s a bite, Elyssa,” And this time, she was _sure_ those glowing eyes of his were laughing at her even if his mouth didn’t show it. “Pain is usually involved in those. I can, however, promise that it is certainly not excruciating.”

“Well that’s a relief…I think.”

He carefully stepped towards her while she sat stock still and staring straight ahead. For every moment that he moved closer, she grew more and more uneasy.

“Should I stand up, then?” She said, trying to distract herself from imagining the pain too much; she’d a bad habit of blowing things out of proportion.

“It would be much preferable if you remained seated...Else the dizziness may cause you to fall. It may even be better if you were to lie down…”

“Sorry, but there’s no way you’re going to get me onto your dining room table. That would just be too…” She recalled to mind an earlier scene of stumbling upon them whilst they sat around a half-naked Dark Elf “….awkward. Awkward and probably uncomfortable. For me, that is. No idea if _you_ feel a hundred percent comfortable with people just casually laying on-”

Her spiraling commentary came to a screeching halt when she felt his hand rest lightly on her shoulder. The very same shoulder twitched, of its own accord, and he removed his hand shortly after.

“That’s the third time you’ve flinched,” he accused.

“No it’s not!” She blurted out. “That’s barely the first!”

“Elyssa…”

“I can do this! I’m not a coward!” She insisted, finally turning to face him as he stood right next to her.

“Nobody is calling you as such. But this is also not necessary, and I believe I made it quite clear that my household only feeds on the _willing_.”

“I _am_ willing! I just….I…” Her resolve withered a bit in the midst of staring him down.

His eyes glowing red and unnatural. A sign, perhaps from the Divines, as to dangers that could lurk behind them. The same kind of red eyes on the bloodfiends she’d been fighting ever since she came to Rivenspire.

“…I…I just need a moment,” she finished, knowing full well that it was an admission of defeat.

He sighed and walked back to his books. “Go back to bed, Elyssa. I need to focus on figuring out what Montclair’s next movements may be.”

She sat there for a few moments longer, but he was firmly encased back in his notes and didn’t turn around again to acknowledge her again. The obvious signs that the conversation was over.

He thought she was just being childish.

It stung a little, the obvious disregard. Ignored and brushed aside so casually. It almost felt a lot like the time her papa had caught her ruining one of his prized books even after she _promised_ she wouldn’t touch it. Except this was pretty much a stranger, and she couldn’t discern whether that made it somehow _worse_. 

The feeling, the blatant disregard, threatened to stifle the little study they were in, and it became too much for her to bear that she did decide to leave. 

Slowly taking the steps back upstairs to the bedroom.

She passed a dead mouse and thought idly about it; one of the things that Adusa had done to help the servants prepare the room for her was to take out a couple of live mice. They didn’t get many guests, or so Adusa said.

But she wondered if the mice weren’t just the natural result of vacancy; the bite mark on this one suggested they were also kept around as a midnight snack.

She chuckled a bit at that as she crept onto the double bed. The fresh sheets had been thoroughly washed with soap, she had been told, and seemed so very new that they did not even have the usual frayed threads at the end or faded patterns. And they were just a little bit stiff.

The mortal servants didn’t stay here; there were additional rooms downstairs beyond the storage alcove. This was purely a guest room. ….And it almost felt _fake_. Like the immortal Count of the castle had attempted to make something seem homely, only for it to just perceptively feel _off._

Perhaps the room had seen such rare usage that it failed to ever take on the personalities of those who had used it.

It might have even just been the fact that there were three very obvious coffins resting in the main hall, visible from the guest suite balcony.

It wasn’t bad...it was just…

_“Comfy yet, little sweetthing?” The Dremora playfully poked her with the end of a very sharp and very pointy rod._

_Elyssa struggled yet again, but the bars of the humanoid shaped cage held fast._

_Cadwell…_

_Lyris…_

_The Prophet…_

_The only three kind voices in that entire prison, and they were screaming in agony right behind her._

_“What are you doing to them?! Stop it!” She cried out, trying, in vain, to turn her head to look at them._

_“Now now. We assure you, they’re being WELL taken care of.” The Dremora poked her again right at her collarbone. “Just as you will be!”_

_The screaming behind her increased, as if to prove a point._

_“But ooh. Oooh. It seems you have a guest, sweetling. Someone is here. Just. To see. **You**.”_

_More Dremora came, dragging a human alongside them. The woman was pushed in front of Elyssa’s cage._

_“….I asked you for help…” The woman said, tears falling freely as she looked up._

_A shiver went down Elyssa’s spine as soon as she realized she was staring at the face of Duchess Lakana._

_“Y-your Grace…”_

_“I asked you for help…and what did you do?” The Duchess pointed an accusing finger. “You left me! You left me alone with that man, that murderer!”_

_“I didn’t…I didn’t mean to….I didn’t mean to, I swear. I didn’t know it was him…” Her eyes began to water up, a mirror of the Duchess’ own face._

_“How could you? You said you would help me! Why didn’t you do everything you could? Why didn’t you **stay** with me?”_

_“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry!”_

_“And you spared him! You **spared** that monster! How could you do that after he **killed** me?!”_

_“That’s enough of that!” The Dremora interrupted, prodding the Duchess to move along. “Put her Gracious Grace alongside the rest of them! You’re starting a nice collection here, my little sweetling.”_

_And as soon as the Duchess was dragged out of sight, Elyssa could hear her start to scream as well._

_“Stop it!! Let them go!!” She rattled the cage as hard as she could._

_“Ooooh. Making demands, are we? Do you truly think you’re in any position to **save** them? Look at you. You couldn’t save the Duchess. You couldn’t save that family of that poor werewolf Duke. You couldn’t save your darling dearest father…”_

_The Daedra leaned right into her face, its teeth pearly white and crooked. And the smell coming from its breath was positively putrid in an indescribable way that had no easy comparisons anywhere on Tamriel._

_“…In fact, you can’t even save **yourself**.”_

_And with that, the Dremora **rammed** the rod straight into her shoulder, causing her to jerk back and scream_.

_Scream._

_And Scream. And fall back onto the…_

….

…sheet covers…

Elyssa was shaking. Her eyes darted back and forth as she ascertained that yes, those were indeed sheet covers. She was in a room with a bed and nice looking wooden furniture.

In a room made out of stone.

A house.

No, a castle.

That’s right. Ravenwatch Castle.

There were no Dremora in sight. No screaming. No water tainted blue with an eerie light.

No crags filled with bleakest rocks that spread out like daggers.

No distant tundras with nothing but dead plants the eyes could see.

No cages….

Elyssa took one, long, swipe of her hand against her brow, pulling away the sweat that had collected there. She must have dozed off just then, only to be faced with yet _another_ nightmare.

She tried to push it straight out of her mind and _attempt_ togo back to sleep, but her legs demanded to wander. That, and she was sure that if she closed her eyes again, the Daedra would return to haunt her.

Her feet took her back downstairs. The shaking ever present in each and every one of her steps. Soon enough, she found herself back at the study. The doorway leading outside, the dining table, the whispering quiet of the night; it all gave the comforting confirmation that the horrors she’d just seen really _were_ just dreams.

Adusa was out scouting the nearby towns and municipal villages. Melina was out gathering supplies. The mortal servants were likely fast asleep in their own quarters. Gwendis was….well, Akatosh only knows where Gwendis went off to. But sure and steady, Count Ravenwatch was still working in his study. And the nightmare was fresh enough that she felt drawn to sticking around with the only conscious person she had easy access to.

The scratch of a feather quill paused only briefly as she stood at the threshold.

“Contrary to whatever you may believe, Elyssa,” The Count stated, never looking up. “The sun does _not,_ in fact, rise every twenty minutes like you seem to do.”

Her shaking died down just enough to allow her the dignity of a glare in his direction. Now she was convinced: the _real reason_ people were uncomfortable around him had absolutely nothing to do with his status as a vampire.

“ _Bite me_ ,” She seethed back at him.

She’d meant it as an insult. A come back. But she realized her mistake when he stopped writing to give her back one, long, unamused look. Complete with an eyebrow raised.

“Did we not just have this conversation?” He said, turning to another page.

“I don’t care. I’d rather have conversations all night long if it means I don’t have to go back to sleep.”

She started pacing a bit around the study’s doorway, if only to give her mind something to focus on and her legs something to do.

But as she made a few passes, she noticed he had stopped working and was watching her. This time with a far more unreadable expression than the blatant apathy.

“What are your dreams about that has you so terrified?” 

“Coldharbour,” She whispered, just barely under her breath. It must have been loud enough for him to hear her, because his eyes grew a little wider.

“You’ve…actually been there?”

The moment she stopped her pacing was the moment her shaking started up again. She looked him in the eyes, but found she couldn’t stand to do that for long and had to look towards the floor.

She could hear him whisper something unintelligible; cursing, perhaps, under his breath in Aldmeris.

“You carry a much heavier burden than I initially thought.” He said, “You’re far, _far_ too young for all of this…”

“I can help! I know I can!” Elyssa insisted, “I’m not afraid of Coldharbour! I’m not afraid of the bloodfiends! I’m not afraid to get bitten! I can prove it! You can have my blood; take it!”

It was supposed to be a reaffirming statement, but her protestations almost made her sound even more childish.

“Elyssa…” he spoke calmly. Carefully. “Why is it so important to you that you give me your blood?”

“Because you need it, don’t you?” She said, frustrated. She began her pacing again.

“That’s not the reason.”

“Because I want to be helpful!”

“That’s _also_ not the reason.”

This time, she stopped pacing and got angry.

“Because if I _don’t_ give everything I can, and something happened to you, or the High King, or the people of Rivenspire, it will be all my fault again!!”

She yelled it out, and her body feeling a little lighter as she did. Even as her eyes had begun to water just a bit.

“There it is…” Verandis said softly.

And he left her a moment to go over to the cabinet by the door.

“One of the greatest strengths…” he said, and she could hear him fiddling with something. “…Of the Daedric Prince of Domination is not just in his talent to forcefully suppress a person’s free will or inflicting their greatest fears, but in his capacity for making them feel guilt.”

He returned with a glass of a deep red liquid. “Physical pain may fade with time, but guilt has a habit of remaining. What’s worse, it’s often the sufferer that fosters and grows it. Is there any torture more perfect than that which the victim inflicts upon themselves? Sit down, Elyssa.”

“What…?” She glanced from him to the glass as he sat it down at the table between the two chairs in the study.

“If you still insist that I taste your blood, then I must insist that you sit down first.”

Her eyes grew wide a moment, but she clenched her fists out of resolve and held fast as she cautiously took the seat to the right. He maneuvered the chair opposite to rest closer to her, taking a seat himself.

Her fingers were still trembling as she reached up and undid the top button at the back of her dress, but she hadn’t a clue whether they were trembling because of _this_ or if they were simply leftovers from her fitful sleep. It may have been both. 

“I don’t...need to take off my clothes completely, do I?” She frowned in disgust at the thought. She hadn’t considered that part, but the Dunmer from before had been…well…half-naked.

“ _No_ ,” He said, firmly. “A shoulder is all that’s required. Are you ready?”

She glanced at the filled glass.

“Do you always take a shot after you’ve already had a drink?” She joked weakly.

“The wine is for you, Elyssa. I think you should drink at least a little of it when I’m done. Now, are you prepared?”

Her hand reached up to pull down one of the shoulders of her dress, just enough so that her collarbone showed. Her fists clenched and unclenched themselves as she rigidly held them in her lap. If she were ever bitten by a vampire, this is what it would feel like….

Finally, she nodded.

A touch at her shoulder caused her to flinch again, but they were only fingers. He was gently moving a strand of hair out of the way.

“Tell me. I saw you speaking to Melina earlier and it caught my attention. Did she find a particularly interesting rune?”

She brightened up a little at that.

“Oh! Well not _exactly_ ; we were just talking about this one- _ow.”_

She was simultaneously a little irritated and a little grateful. The skeever only asked her that as a _distraction_ … and she actually fell for it.

Vampire fangs were apparently large enough that it felt a little like someone had just happily jabbed a pair of sewing needles into the tender part of her shoulder. She’d had _worse_ injuries before, but it wasn’t very pleasant either.

…And it was just a tad bit _awkward_. For obvious reasons. 

Did the servants really do this on a regular basis? 

Just as she considered the pain, a wave of a new sensation came with it. He was right; it did have the effect of making a person dizzy. Dizzy and…a little hazy. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep that she’d self-induced upon herself for the past couple of days, but she was actually starting to feel…calmer.

Numb.

After a few seconds had passed, it no longer hurt. And she was no longer sitting up straight in the chair, but rather lounging. The hard wood had suddenly felt a lot more comfy.

She could still feel him there. It was hard to ignore his mouth (although she valiantly tried anyways, if only to make it a little less awkward), but she couldn’t really feel any blood actually going out of her (probably a blessing). One of his hands helped to hold up her neck, and the other right at her upper arm to hold her steady. It was just as well; the numbness had the effect of making her feel like a puddle of water.

She could also feel him pull away. Replaced with the feeling of cloth at her shoulder. Elyssa turned to look and found him softly pressing either a handkerchief or a napkin to the wound (for her sanity’s sake, she decided it was the former rather than the latter).

“That didn’t seem like much,” Her speech was a little slurred.

“Do you still wish to fight the bloodfiends while _conscious_? If so, then this is all you can afford to lose. You already run the risk of injury on the battlefield.”

He motioned for her to hold the handkerchief there. “It will stop bleeding in a moment. How do you feel?”

“Rather nice…” She said with a slightly loopy smile. But then she frowned. “Am I supposed to find it nice?”

“All vampires have some level of hypnotic ability. Some use it to effect of creating slavish thralls. Mostly, I suspect it’s there to ensure that any prey doesn’t try to escape our grasp. For this reason, I think it tends to show up often in mortals who have been recently fed upon.”

Elyssa thought about Kallin and the almost _eager_ way he introduced himself to her so soon after the Ravenwatch vampires had dined upon him.

“So…do you influence your servants to give you their blood?”

“I do not always willingly inflict this effect, Elyssa. Think of it more as a side effect than something I always have a conscious command of. Anyone I feed on could potentially feel like this.”

“But you have _some_ control of your hypnotic ability, don’t you…?”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking of me. Here.” He gestured for the handkerchief back and for her to fix her outfit. 

“If you’re implying that I somehow force or coerce my servants to give me their blood, the answer is ‘no’. I made no such demands of them, nor would I need to. There are plenty of people in Rivenspire of the unsavory variety; bandits, cutthroats, and the like for whom death would be deserving. So it would be no trouble to us if Kallin should ever wish to seek employment elsewhere. I would not stop him. Only ask that he keep the secret of our gifts to himself. Not everyone in Rivenspire knows of our nature.”

She adjusted her dress back to normal after looking at the mark. The wound had stopped bleeding; only two pinpricks of red against her skin to mark that anything had actually happened.

“I don’t oversee a prison here in my home.” He said.

With it being so fresh in her mind, it was difficult to keep her thoughts away from her dream; the bleakness of Molag Bal’s domain and how it contrasted with the Count’s own castle. In spite of the coffins (and questionable décor)….this was practically paradise compared to Coldharbour.

Then again…wasn’t _anything_ paradise compared to that place?

“You should have a few sips of wine.” He said, interrupting her reverie. 

She nodded and took the glass, letting the liquid swirl within before bringing it to her lips. It was a tad sweet, and something she must have needed because she took in a large gulp of it.

“The numbness is wearing off…” She said, contemplating the glass in her hand. “…And I have to face my dreams once more…I don’t want to go back to sleep and see Duchess Lakana again…”

“The Duchess of Alcaire…I understand that it was you who thwarted the Daedric plot behind her murder.”

“But I couldn’t save her! She was so….she was so scared. And she said she was all alone there. The soldiers wouldn’t even allow her to see most of the entourage that came for her from her father. I said I would help her and then…then…”

She tried not to get too emotional by taking another large gulp of wine “…I should have stayed right next to her instead of running around…”

“We are all bound by our limitations, my child. In your case, you cannot possibly be everywhere and save everyone all at once…”

“No. But I could have made sure I brought her murderer to justice…”

She finished the glass and set it back on the table, balling her hands into fists again.

“…I let him go. He looked so guilty…and his mind had been manipulated by Vaermina…I thought it was the right thing to do. At least, that’s what I told myself at the time.”

Elyssa looked down at her hands, clenching and unclenching them, staring at them as though she’d hoped they would somehow provide a better thought process.

“Now I’m wondering if I was really right. The Duke seemed a little bit angry at my decision…”

“He was likely grieving.”

“And the knight in question - the one who killed her? – he _himself_ said that he felt guilty and deserved to die.”

“Those who feel guilt are not always guilty of anything. And he, as a knight, was likely considering the strained political relations going on within the Covenant. His duty to preserve the alliance may have weighed heavily on him to the point where he thought sacrificing his life should be a consideration.”

“But he seemed so…I don’t know. He was acting so normal when I met him; when he supposedly was under Vaermina’s sway. I have to wonder if he didn’t secretly want the Duchess to die after all…”

“Now you’re being a bit unfair.”

“But…He _could_ have resisted.” She said, finally. “He _must_ have been able to resist. He should have tried. He was acting so normal most of the time that he had to have _some_ control of his senses. If he had put a little effort into fighting back, maybe she wouldn’t be dead. Maybe I would have been able to stop him. Or maybe I wouldn’t have even _had_ to stop him. If only he’d considered alternatives…He could have just kidnapped her instead, but _no_. She just _had_ to die! He should have been punished for that...He should have died, and I should ha—“

His hand was at her shoulder again, and that numb feeling came back with such a vengeance that she had instantly slumped back into the chair. Her anxiety laced rambling put to a halt with a slack jaw.

Her breathing steadied. Her eyelids drooped. Every muscle in her body had completely and utterly given in to a state of soothing relaxation. 

“Stand up, Elyssa,” he commanded.

A floating, freeing feeling washed over her as she did as she was told. The room had gotten brighter, the hallway lighting almost dancing in front of her eyes.

“Come with me upstairs,” he commanded again.

And she felt compelled….no, she felt like it was _wonderful_ to move forward. He followed behind and caught her by her arms to direct her around the dining room table.

They walked, slow and steady. Elyssa was sure that if she hadn’t been held by the mer behind her that she’d fall flat on her face. The numbness took all anxiety away….to be replaced completely with contentment and a calm sort of happiness…It was the most relieving feeling in the world. 

“Molag Bal,” He said, “Would certainly love to have you convinced that weakness is a sin. That people with weaker wills, much like the knight you speak of, deserve to be punished and tortured.”

They began to ascend the stairs, and Elyssa swayed a bit. She had been trying her best to focus on walking, but the comforting numbness was making her a bit sleepy. Besides, her feet and legs appeared to find themselves all on their own, without any effort on her part.

In the back of her mind, there was some measure of concern that _something_ was wrong here. But any attempt at trying to grasp what exactly was amiss slipped right out of her thoughts. 

“But we all have our weaknesses, Elyssa,” Count Verandis continued. “There is not a person in all of Tamriel who is devoid of them. For me, it is the sun. For you? Right now, it is your generous acceptance of others who are different than you; the _trust_ that you easily form with strangers in spite of how unusual they may be or, in this case, whether or not they are a vampire. Acceptance and compassion are very much virtues to be exalted, but in the hands of the wrong people they can become weaknesses to be utilized against you.”

They reached the top of the stairs and made their way into the guest parlor. Each step forwards made her feel like a leaf on the wind; dancing across the floor as though her body was lighter than air. The furniture danced alongside her, swimming in her vision. She heard every word that he said (in fact, it held the bulk of her attention, as if she _couldn’t_ ignore him even if she tried), but finding a response was difficult as she couldn’t formulate the thoughts to say anything. 

“I am grateful for your trust, Elyssa. Far too many have unfairly scorned or judged us for our condition without ever trying to become acquainted with who we are as people.”

He stopped her just as they reached the table. She frowned with disappointment; she wanted to keep moving around. It felt nice. 

“However, imagine for a moment,” He whispered lower, closer to her ear. “How disastrous this would be if I had a more destructive desire. What would happen if we had met on a dark, lonely night and I had no code of conduct to dictate my thirst? I would beckon you, entrap you just like this. How easily you would come to me, following me out of sight of any living person who might help you. Can you imagine what I would do then with such a feast all to myself? This feeling, this enthrallment, would be the last sensation you ever felt; helpless to do anything as I gorged myself on your life’s blood.”

Fingers appeared at her throat, ever so gently pressed against her skin, against the pulse beating there. And almost automatically, she found she had lifted her chin even more to better allow them. She felt a tinge of fear break through the numbness; fear of the mer at her back, at the way her own body rebelled against her wishes to expose her own throat… and a growing, frightening consideration at the back of her mind that he might, _just might,_ take the offer. In spite of whatever he may have said about their feeding habits before. 

“Tell me,” He said, “Many members of my kind would insist that they have the right to feast on mortals because their prey is weaker than them. Would it be just and proper for me to rip your throat out all because you are powerless right now? Do I have the right to _murder_ you just because I can? Because I’m _stronger_?”

A small bubble of panic managed to sober her up enough to try and wiggle free. But the movement was half-hearted; she still did not feel like she had complete command of her body. Even though he did not hold her very firmly, her little movements seemed insufficient to loosen his grasp. Attempting to maneuver limbs felt like trying to wade through dense tar. And as the words died in her throat before they had the chance to pass her lips, she was met with the horrific realization that she was trapped at his whim without so much as the ability to scream. 

She had never been so terrified of him before that moment.

He removed his hand from her throat to grasp both arms in an attempt to hold her steady; her struggling had given her an awfully dangerous sway that threatened to cause her to hit the table. Or the floor. Whichever unfortunate hard surface she reached first.

“It’s all right, Elyssa.” He said, his voice kinder. “I give you my word; your life is safe within my home and among myself and my household. I’ll release you very soon, I promise. Relax now, or you’ll hurt yourself.”

As if that was _also_ command, a new, fresh wave of numbness and calm settled in, and she felt too exhausted from her last struggle to resist it. It took over once again, and the world went fuzzy.

“Sit down,” he commanded, releasing his grip on her arms to pull out a chair. And she obeyed, taking the offered seat.

He went to stand before her with crossed arms. They remained like that for several minutes before she began to notice that she had feeling back in her legs. The calm was dying down. Her fingers could twitch at her will. Her arms now moved unimpeded. And with her newly re-acquired control of herself, she immediately proceeded to do the thing she wanted to do the most:

Look up and glare at him.

(Punching him was actually the first option, but she was tired and felt that it required more effort than she thought he deserved)

“How are you feeling?” He asked, unphased by her expression.

“Pretty pissed.”

“As well you should be. But recognize that it is _my_ fault for exerting my power over you. It is not _your_ fault that you hadn’t the strength to resist back. You can’t hold yourself responsible for my actions or the actions of any others…Just as you should not hold other people responsible for the actions of Vaermina.”

Her glare lessened as she contemplated this. “Do you…suppose that was a taste of what Sir Hughes felt? The same sort of influence he may have been under?”

“I cannot guess what sort of Daedric magic Vaermina used, but I can almost surely guarantee it was potent.”

She was silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond. So she looked down to fiddle with her fingers.

His demonstration made an impression.

“Never doubt that you made the right choice to spare that knight’s life,” He said, softly. “He was not a cultist, nor did he willingly implore Vaermina for any of this; she _forced_ her influence upon him by taking advantage of the little bits of doubt that we all experience when it comes to change in our lives. No mortal deserves death all because they were weaker than a Daedric Prince. If we should go by this logic, then all but a potential handful should be summarily executed right here and now.”

“…Yeah.” Elyssa sighed, avoiding his gaze. “I think a part of me realizes that. That I don’t actually blame Sir Hughes, I just…”

“…You still feel a little guilty because you happened to be there. And you’re desperately trying to look for an excuse to assuage that guilt.”

“Yeah,” She winced to hear it aloud, but he had put it very succinctly.

“Her death wasn’t your fault, Elyssa. You cannot hope to control what a Daedric Prince decides to do; you can only hope to try and stop them. Even then, such foes are so formidable that it isn’t a guarantee that you will be successful.”

He leaned against the table. “I would consider it impressive that you were even able to save the poor soul manipulated by Vaermina. He may be punished in exile, but that is a far better, far more _appropriate_ fate than what the Daedric Prince of Nightmares had in store for him, I can promise you that. I don’t think I need to remind you that Daedra often treat mortals as toys, and are known to mercilessly toss aside those that have passed their usefulness.”

“I guess…” She sighed again, gaze transfixed to the floor in front of him. But then she remembered what had just happened, and she snapped her head back up to glare at him. “I’m still angry at you, though.”

“And I apologize that I frightened you. I do regret that. Make no mistake, it is wrong to affect people’s minds in such a way, and I apologize for that as well. But I thought it would give you some perspective as to what it feels like to be influenced in such a manner. At the very least, I would hope that it proved to you how difficult it is to escape.”

“How _do_ you escape?” She had a terrible thought pass through her head about having to face amuch more sinister vampire who would use this technique.

“Different strains of vampirism, different capabilities. But in this particular case, there were several factors working against you.”

He gestured to her.

“First, you had allowed me to feed off of you, which, I believe, actually helps with this. Second, you trusted me. At least, enough to stay the night without any discernible fear for your own safety. I was able to take advantage of that to exert a much more potent sway. If you recall, you had regained some ability to fight back the moment I lost that trust and started to frighten you. Unfortunately, you had, by that point, been under my control for a bit too long that it was difficult to break through.”

“So…Feeding, length of time, and trust. Did I get that correct?”

“For my particular type of vampirism, yes. You’ll likely meet many others whose abilities operate under a different set of rules. It does, however, take no small amount of effort to inflict such hypnotic influence, so it is doubtful that you’ll meet very many opponents who would consider using it against you in the heat of battle.”

She nodded. “That’s comforting a bit…I think.”

Silence settled over them.

This time, it was Verandis who sighed.

“I cannot speak for the Duchess,” he said, “But I am quite familiar with both the High King and his brother, the Duke of Alcaire. And I can assure you that neither of them would want you to be this distraught over Duchess Lakana’s death. Especially not to the point where it is affecting your sleep.”

“Yeah, about that. I still _really_ don’t want to close my eyes. So do you have anything you need that I can help with?”

“Blood loss and exhaustion doesn’t strike me as a particularly brilliant plan for fighting off blood fiends.”

“ _I can’t_.” Elyssa stared him straight in the eye, trying to keep the twitching of her mouth from grimacing too much, “I really, _really_ can’t do this. I _can’t_ go back to sleep right now; it’s just going to be the same nightmare again. Like it was yesterday. And the night before that.”

He stared back at her without comment at first, but eventually uncrossed his arms to head towards his alchemical table in the corner.

“How about,” He said, “I brew you a sleeping draught.”

“But—“

“You needn’t drink it if you don’t want to. But I’ll leave it here with you, just in case.”

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Is this going to be like the last potion you made for me, where I wandered about in your memories?”

“No memories. Just a typical sleeping potion.”

Her nose rankled at the undesirable scents and burning smells that were already coming from the station as he worked.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I didn’t really _mind_ stepping into your past. It was kind of fun being someone else, actually. Just not sure I’d want to do it on a regular basis, because it was also kind of disorienting.”

“Considering everything you’ve told me, I believe we shouldn’t have a repeat of that. I’m already beginning to regret what little I’ve shown you; I think you have enough worries without me adding more of my own to your pile.”

She could hear sounds of him pouring liquid into a container, and soon enough he approached her with a bottle of something blood red.

He held it out for her and she reached for it, but his grip held fast.

“Please look at me, Elyssa.”

Her blue eyes looked up to find contemplative red.

“Never let Molag Bal win by accepting his ideology,” He said, resolve in his expression. “Believe me when I say, he would _cherish_ such a submission from you. Weakness is not a sin…and the powerful should always strive to protect, not abuse. Remember that.”

She nodded slowly in response to the seriousness in his words, and he released the bottle to her grasp.

“….Vampires fall under the realm of Molag Bal, don’t they?” She asked, holding tight to the vial, “To the point where I even heard that Coldharbour is where their souls go when they die. Is that one of the many reasons why you have an honor code? Not _just_ to be a good person, but to fight back against him, even if a little bit?”

The flickers of a very sad smile tugged at the edges of his lips.

“…Have a good night, Elyssa. May your dreams bring you a much-needed and well-deserved rest.”

And with that, he left her to go back downstairs.

She stared at him as he went. And stared at the potion he left her when he was gone.

After crawling back to the bed, she pulled out the stopper to take a little sniff of the concoction. It smelled awful, like most potions do. And she winced as she pulled back to take a tiny taste of it.

Fortunately, the taste wasn’t half as bad as some of the magicka brews she’d had before; this one only had a _faint_ note of rotting eggs and cabbage, instead of an overt one. That was an improvement. 

After much staring and much consideration, she held her nose and downed the rest of it in one swallow, smacking her lips with a sour expression as she finished.

But the taste lingered, and soon enough she crept out of bed to go back to the parlor. Rustling through the pantry next to the alchemical vials was a bottle of unopened wine. She silently gave a prayer of thanks to the Divines that bottles of wine were so readily available in a house full of vampires just as she popped out the cork and took a long swing of it to try to drown out the disgusting rotten eggs.

With the taste gone and her thirst satiated, she made her way back to the bedroom. A wave of dizziness and exhaustion had quickly crept up on her, and she mumbled her discontent under her breath; apparently it was a very, very _potent_ sleeping potion.

Just before she came upon the bed, all the furniture in the room performed perfect backflips.

Her whole world spun around…

…And faded to black. 


	2. In a House of Vampires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for this specific chapter: references to sex. Brief descriptions of violence. Occasional light cursing (i.e. damn, ass. It’s very infrequent though)
> 
> Hey everyone. I really really hope you all have been doing much better during these troubled times than I have. I have an anxiety disorder (as well as a couple of other things and chronic medical conditions) and let’s just say that this does not exactly mix well with a worldwide pandemic. Let me just say that if it wasn’t for ESO and my ESO guildies, I don’t know where I’d be. 
> 
> I love your comments. All of them. I have been coming back just to read them again and again, and when I get the chance I want to respond to each and every one of them. You all are so beautiful; thank you… And thank you to the person who left that extremely lovely message in my ask box on Tumblr! I’m not sure how to let you know, how to respond in a way that you will see (are you still around?), but if you can see this: I love you and I loved, loved, loved your message! 
> 
> I also want to read your ESO story when I get a chance, Redlang.
> 
> I missed writing. A lot. But I have so tired lately that I was having difficulties writing this next chapter. I finally got it out and I wanted to share it with all of you. This one is a bit more lighthearted than the last (we’re going to go on a rollercoaster here, with lighthearted chapters intermixed with not-so lighthearted chapters). I also changed the tags a bit. 
> 
> Lots of notes here (and I apologize for that. But this chapter had a lot of stuff going on. There are a couple of explanations for anyone who is interested/confused by something that went on in this chapter. There's also notes at the end.):
> 
> Ravenwatch and sexuality:It’s actually canon that House Ravenwatch has “naked parties”. I kid you not. Gwendis has dialogue during the quest where you crown the new King/Queen of Rivenspire; if you meet her upstairs in Shornhelm’s castle, she’ll say something like:“If this were a Ravenwatch party, none of these people would be wearing clothes”. Please note that this is a “missable conversation”;if you do not catch Gwendis before completing the crowning quest, you will never get to see her say it again. 
> 
> Even if ZOS later decides to erase these lines, they can’t erase them from history because I have recordings of it :D In all honesty? I actually appreciated this little side note;I think it adds more complexity to their characters. Given their rules about consent regarding blood giving, their parties are probably fully consensual too.And there really isn’t anything wrong about adults having consensual parties. Besides, vampires have always been a little associated with sex and sexuality, so I don’t think it’s really that surprising. 
> 
> Kalin’s comment is a reference to their parties. But he purposely worded it in a way that he knew Elyssa wouldn’t understand: with a reference to a Dunmer tavern-brothel. No, Ophelia doesn’t actually participate in their parties (having grown up in this place, I think it would be awkward for all people involved); instead she usually goes to visit relatives and comes back to help with the clean-up. That’s not gonna stop Kalin from teasing her anyways. Speaking of Kalin, I really think he didn’t need to be half-naked and lounging on their dining room table during their mealtime. Just saying: I feel like we were interrupting a little more than just “mealtime”.
> 
> Now, whether or not Verandis and his "children" have relations with each other when they keep referring to each other by familial names ("father", "sister") is a different story; the idea makes me uncomfortable. But I'm fairly certain Kalin (who is not "a family member") and mortal guests can get some action with the vampires. 
> 
> In regards to the mortal servants: I’m sorry, ZOS. I don’t care how much magic is pumping through Tamriel’s veins; you will never convince me that two servants (Kalin and Estelle) can feed a household of five vampires once a night every night (even more than five vampires if you save the two people during the Rivenspire quests). Even with magical “produce more blood” potions, I felt the need to add at least two more mortals to the household…I hope readers don’t mind…
> 
> It did get me thinking: how does Verandis find these people? I doubt he just puts up an ad onto the Shornhelm bulletin board. Can you imagine? “Help wanted. Must have lots of blood and no aversion to pointy objects in your neck” (I’m kidding). Melina Cassel’s comments in her hireling mails implies that Verandis doesn’t force the servants to give blood as a part of their contract (she makes mention that Estelle giving blood goes “beyond the call of duty”). But there probably is a preference for those who aren’t averse to parting with a bit of their life force every now and then. In Kalin’s case, I’m like 99% convinced his half naked Dunmer self does it because he thinks it’s hot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

She was staring at a wall.

….

…….

To be fair, it was a very _nice_ wall.

…

….

….Although it did take her more than a moment’s time to realize she was staring at it sideways.

…

…And even longer to realize that she was staring at it sideways because _she was lying down_.

Groaning out of partial frustration, Elyssa heaved herself into a sitting position. 

A soft bed and warm blankets were there to greet her, and they were inviting enough that she was sorely tempted to just go back to sleep. 

But the longer she sat there, the faster the memories of the previous days nagged at her: 

High Rock.

Blood fiends.

A plot to conquer the entirety of Rivenspire by a grieving and spiteful Breton noble. 

The usual.

_…._

_……She had to know what time it was._

Covers flung wide, she jumped out of bed. Or tripped, rather; a creak in her back found her eagerness a bit disagreeable. And it took a bit rubbing out her muscles to get her poor back to stand up straight.

But she hurried to make her way downstairs, whether her sore back liked it or not, when she heard the echoes of a conversation.

Gwendis and Melina were both there in the main hall. Gwendis was literally lounging on top of her coffin, her arm lazily hanging over her eyes as if she meant to sleep like that.

Melina was at the table, toying with an array of colorful runestones.

“Good morning, Elyssa,” Melina cheerfully greeted her as she approached.

“Morning, Melina. Morning Gwendis.”

Gwendis only gave a grunt in response.

Elyssa took a spot next to Melina, watching her as she carefully examined one rune at a time before placing them into different, colorful piles.

“Did you sleep well?” Melina asked, frowning and squinting closer to her own hand when she noticed the rune she held had its surface defaced.

“Better than well. I think this was the best sleep I’ve had since…it’s _got_ to have been weeks...I feel fantastic…”

Melina chuckled a little. “Well if you get such wonderful sleep in our home, perhaps you should stay with us then! At least, for a while. We get so few guests; I find it a little exciting to have someone new with us. And, provided you’re still interested, I’d love the opportunity to show you a few basic enchanting techniques. You know…when all this…ah, bloodfiend business is over.”

Elyssa perked up with a grin. “I think I’d really like that. And maybe you could take a look at that book I got, the one I told you about? It really doesn’t make a lick of sense to me, and it would be great if someone could translate it into something more ‘beginner level’.”

“Oh of course, dear. I’ll certainly give it a try when we’re all a little less pre-occupied…”

“Wake me up when the world’s ending,” Gwendis moaned, still lounging on her perch.

“Is she all right?” Elyssa asked, leaning towards Melina.

“Oh she’s fine. Just cranky after scouting out half of Rivenspire for Adusa. She’ll be better after she gets some rest….”

Melina’s eyes narrowed at Gwendis. “She’d feel even _better_ if she actually bothered to go _inside_ her coffin instead of sleeping on the hard stone lid...”

“That requires getting up…” Gwendis complained.

Melina gave a sigh, then went back to her rune sorting. 

But Elyssa continued to stare at Gwendis, lost in thought.

“Do vampires dream?” She asked, absentmindedly. 

“Of course we do,” Melina replied. “My favorite dreams involve handsome men, coming to sweep me off my feet and take me far away to their extravagant and elaborate castle where we watch the stars and raise our nineteen adopted children together…”

“Which, for Melina, is nineteen too many,” Gwendis chimed in with a chuckle.

“Oh _hush you._ If you’re too tired to lift a coffin lid than you’re too tired to make fun of my fantasies.”

“Do you really want nineteen children?” Elyssa asked.

“Well…” She started with a bit of a grimace, “Maybe not quite THAT many….But I do want at least a child or two. I adore children, they can be so sweet sometimes…”

She stared with melancholy as she traced the face of a beautiful rune.

“Never making assumptions….never judging you…” She continued, solemnly.

“Breaking all the furniture in the house,” Gwendis remarked with a more lighthearted air.

“I suppose they can also be quite destructive too,” Melina gave out a little laugh. “But what about you, Elyssa? Have you ever thought about children?”

Elyssa made a face. “I think my horse is enough of a handful…”

She straightened up in a panic when she remembered her horse.

“Wait, my horse! I put her around back in that shed place like Ophelia told me to, but I forgot to ask: was that really okay? What if the bloodfiends got to her? Should I go check on her?”

Melina patted her hand reassuringly just as she stood.

“Don’t fret there, dear. The bloodfiends tend to lean away from anything that doesn’t smell like food, and our scent is all over these grounds. It wards the little monsters away from our beautiful castle.”

Elyssa sat back down out of relief.

“Besides,” Melina added, “Our beloved little goat would have been eaten a long time ago if it were otherwise.”

“That goat!” Elyssa groaned. “I mean, speaking of kids and destruction: your goat wouldn’t stop headbutting me as I was trying to take off my horse’s tack, and I was very nearly tempted to kick him straight into your lake. How do you get him to _stop_?”

“Elyssa!” Melina chastised with a cluck. “That’s no way to treat Kalin.”

“Yes but—“ Elyssa cut off as those words wormed their way into her head. “Wha….”

She turned to Melina, face contorted in a mixture of utter confusion with a touch of horror. “ _What_? But I thought Kalin was the name of your…”

“Our resident Weregoat, yes.”

“Your resident… _what?”_

“Were. Goat.” Melina said with precise articulation.

Elyssa stared at her as if she’d grown an extra head. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“Me?” Melina asked, offended and with her hand firmly at her heart. “Why I’d never!”

That did nothing to convince Elyssa.

“Gwendis…” Elyssa sighed, turning to the lounging vampire. “Is there such thing as Weregoats?“

Gwendis lazily lifted her arm to give her a side eye. “I mean, I think you should really focus on apologizing to Kalin for thinking about throwing him into the lake…Ya got some priorities you need to sort here…”

Elyssa flushed in embarrassment. She’d never heard of a weregoat before. But then, she’d never heard of friendly vampires until just yesterday. And someone _did_ tell her once that _werebears_ were an actual thing…

“All… _All right_ …” Elyssa said, slowly. Not quite fully prepared to believe. “Then when do _weregoats_ transform?”

“Why, none other than the evening of every second Morndas of the month. Which, I believe, was yesterday. Is that not correct, Gwendis?”

“ _Yeee-ep_.” Gwendis replied, lazily letting the word hang in the air.

“Okay,” Elyssa said, a little less confident in herself. “But why a goat, of all things?”

“ _Please_ ,” Melina said, “Do I look like Hircine? For all we know, the Daedric Prince of the Hunt punishes those who scorn him with this… _awful curse_. Such poor people might be used as fodder in the Prince’s hunting games. All the more reason why he needs to stay, safe and sound, with us.”

Elyssa gave Melina a critical eye. The vampire had been a bit overdramatic in the way she’d said “awful curse”, but otherwise it seemed she was serious.

Gwendis, likewise, seemed fairly serious too, even as she kept lounging on her coffin lid. 

Elyssa sighed, defeated.

“I guess I really _should_ apologize to Kalin for getting irritated with him…”

“If you still don’t believe us, you can check out his tail,” Gwendis chipped in, “Ask if he’ll drop his pants and show you his hindquarters.”

Elyssa flushed red, and was about to reply that she would not, under any circumstances, ask to see the Dunmer’s posterior. 

But a strangled noise brought her attention back to Melina, and her eyes narrowed in as the lady vampire struggled to keep a straight face.

“You…” Elyssa accused. “You both _are_ pulling my leg after all!”

Melina released the laughter she had apparently been holding in, and Gwendis was happy to chuckle alongside her.

“Come on, Mel,” Gwendis accused, “We had something here.”

The other’s laughter died down to a grin. 

“Oh but Gwendis, I think you went a little too far with that one. If she honestly asked Kalin to bare himself…you know how he gets…He’d probably acquiesce.”

“But that was the best part about it.” Gwendis grinned back.

“Well _I_ don’t think it’s very nice,” Elyssa grumbled.

“Come on.” Gwendis said “We’re just teasing ya a bit. A little hazing just to check if you’re good with our House and all.”

“Besides,” Melina added. “It was positively adorable that you were willing to believe in weregoats.”

“Yeah. I’m just so _gullible_ aren’t I?” Elyssa replied bitterly, remembering what the Count had told her last night about being a little too trusting of people.

“Come now, dear.” Melina said, patting her hand. “We’re sorry. Truly. And how about I put my money where my mouth is and give you extra runestones for your next shipment as a little apology gift?”

“I _guess_ …” She replied, trying to refrain from any signs that free stuff had indeed perked up her mood just slightly. 

She found out she didn’t need to put much effort into that; the Count himself emerged from his study to interrupt.

“Good morning, Elyssa. May I have a word with you?” The statement was short, sweet, and a bit curt. Although that could have just been his High Elven accent.

“Do something naughty while we were gone, did ya?” Gwendis grinned at her just as Elyssa got up to join him.

“Wha— _No_! Of course not!”

Gwendis’ chuckle seemed to almost follow her as she joined Verandis by the bookshelves. This time, he forewent a book in favor of leaning against the shelves, his arms crossed while he regarded her carefully.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Like a rock.” She stretched out her back a little with a wince. “I even woke up _feeling_ a little like a rock.”

“Probably because you spent the better part of the night sleeping on my floor. If I hadn’t decided to venture upstairs to dabble with a little more alchemy, you’d have woken up there too. Why didn’t you drink the potion while you were in bed?”

“I did!” Elyssa cheerfully replied, holding a finger up, “But then I thought it would be a good idea to fetch a little more wine to wash it down.”

His eyebrows rose as he gave her a pointed look

“I mean,” Elyssa continued, her hands dropping to her side again “ _At the time_ it seemed like a good idea. Obviously it’s not such a good idea _after_ the fact.”

The Count stared at her critically for a good while before he closed his eyes with a sigh. When he re-opened them, he was back to contemplative again. 

“You’re lucky you suffered no serious injuries; you could have easily gained yourself a concussion. It seems the Divines do more than simply gift you powerful light magic: it appears they’re also the only things that are keeping you alive.”

“Hey!”

“Which brings me to the reason I called you here. I took the liberty of making a full batch of sleeping draught for you. The bottles are on a tray upstairs labeled with their purpose and your name.”

“Really?” Elyssa’s face lit up; the potential to actually get decent sleep was literally being handed to her. “Thank you so much! I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. This stuff is fantastic; I didn’t dream at _all_ after drinking it.”

“Which is something I need to warn you of. As you’ve discovered for yourself, the draught places you in a very deep sleep. Too deep to dream…and most certainly too deep to be easily roused. If someone were to grab you or hurt you, you will likely not awaken. Make sure to never take a dose unless you are absolutely certain of your safety.”

She was much less enthusiastic about this caveat; inn rooms were expensive, and camping was often inevitable for a lot of places. 

“So…I probably shouldn’t drink any if it’s just me and my sleeping roll out in the open...”

“I would severely recommend _against_ that. Instead, if you absolutely cannot sleep and cannot find a safe haven, take a quarter dosage. It will not rid you of your dreams, but it will help keep you from a restless night without sacrificing your ability to respond to potential threats.”

She gave him a wry smile. “Aaaaand let me guess; I’ll have to come back to you every time I run out, won’t I? Should I start looking for a house in Rivenspire?”

He waved the questions away. “No need. I’ve written down the recipe for you. Even if you do not feel comfortable brewing it yourself, you need only take the instructions to any community’s resident alchemist. It’s straightforward enough that any one of them should be able to provide it for you.”

She nodded and mimicked his stance to recline against the bookshelves, albeit from the opposite end. Silence hung in the air, and he was still regarding her carefully.

“…That’s not all you called me here for. Is it?” Elyssa finally spoke up.

“No, it’s not.” Verandis sighed. She could tell from his very tone he was contemplating his words carefully. “Elyssa…have you considered spending time in Wayrest for a while? There’s a flower festival that happens every year around this time, I believe. I can only vouch for what I’ve seen from afar, but it’s does seem a rather popular event…”

She stared at him incredulously. “We’re in the middle of a situation where bloodfiends and vampires are trying to take over the entire province…”

“Indeed. And we have more than enough people here to handle it.”

She winced back as if he had struck her. _‘We don’t need you’_ was the unspoken implication. 

“ _Oh_? Am I a _burden_ to you now?” She spat back bitterly.

“Child—“

“So what that I’m young? That I have nightmares, and that you found out about them. Now I’m suddenly too pathetic to be of any use to you, is that right?”

“Listen to me—“

“No, _you_ listen to me! What was all that stuff you told me last night? How it was okay to have weaknesses? I’m grateful you gave me potions to help with my sleep, but I’m not worthless just because I need them! And you!”

She pointed an accusing finger at him.

“You have _no right_ to order me out of Rivenspire like this! You aren’t my parent. You aren’t my Emperor. You’re not even the _King of Rivenspire._ ”

She could tell, from the way his face perceptively changed, that the last statement hit a mark. But she was too angry to care. 

“No. I’m going to stay _right here._ I’m going to help defeat Baron Montclair. I’m gonna fight a whole bunch of bloodfiends to reach him…” She stared him down, fists clenched at her side, “And there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop me.” 

He stared back at her, calmly watching for an indication that she was finished. 

“Elyssa…” When he finally spoke, it was soft, slow, and soothing. “I do not believe I ever said you were worthless or pathetic.”

“And yet you’re ordering me to go off prancing at a flower festival.”

“I’m not ordering you to do anything, child. I’m merely making a suggestion. A suggestion based on what I’ve seen and what you’ve told me…You need a moment to relax and recover. One cannot keep shouldering so many burdens without cracking underneath their pressures.”

“But I’m also needed _here_. Back at Shornhelm, you said I had powerful light magic. Better than most.” She reminded him. “And that I could be a great help in all this, since we’re fighting people whose very skin cracks under the light…”

“And, to an extent, I stand by those words. Light magic is notoriously tricky to learn compared to the other elements, and yet it seems to come to you as easily as breathing does. This is unheard of, particularly for someone at your age. There are those who would even go so far as to call you a prodigy, myself included.”

The unexpected praise took a little of the edge off her rage.

“But you’re still inexperienced, and it’s painfully obvious you have not had any formal training in combat; your footwork is sloppy and you leave far too many openings for your opponent to take advantage of. This might not be particularly risky when dealing with mindl0ess bloodfiends, creatures which have very little ability to strategize. But the full-fledged vampires in Montclair’s army won’t hesitate to use that against you. Furthermore, why aren’t you using a staff?”

She straightened up with pride. “Swords are cool.”

He paused as if this was not the answer he was expecting. 

“A staff would make a tremendous improvement on your magicka flow.” He continued on with the same tone of voice. He had, apparently, elected to ignore her statement. “You might even see an additional threefold improvement in the manifestation of your abilities.” 

“But it would leave me wide open. Greatswords help me guard against blows…”

“And so can staves…”

He walked over to retrieve his own firestaff that had been waiting in the corner for him. Holding it out for her to look at, he gestured to its components. 

“A typical battlestaff is made with combat in mind, and part of that involves the possibility that you will need to block a blow if your opponent finds a way to come within reach. You can see here how my own weapon has its wood reinforced with a layer of metal. Furthermore, are the multiple runes embedded into its spine…”

His finger traced over the weapon. As if in response to its owner’s command, several symbols glowed across the length of it, brightly shining for a brief moment before settling back to normal. 

“These, too, are designed with its protection in mind. And with the mind of maintaining consistent magicka flow. A staff that can no longer provide a steady resonation with its owner’s power is not only useless, but dangerous. Such a weapon risks a catastrophic explosion if the user was not careful; thus, the important of the runes. And as for its bladed tip…”

He gestured to the very top of the staff, in which the blade has been sharpened to fine edge. 

“It is not unusual for many staff artisans to include a bladed tip in their work. It does nothing to impair the staff’s traditional function and offers the advantage to utilize it as a make-shift spear, should the need require it.”

He set the staff aside back in its designated corner. 

“Staves may not be as….” He gave her an indulgent smile “… _flashy_ as some other weapons, but they are nonetheless perfectly viable, and adaptable to changing situations on the battlefield.”

Elyssa grumbled, unimpressed. “First you order me out of the region, now you’re ordering me to change my weapon—“

“ _Just_ another suggestion, Elyssa. A _suggestion_ ,” The Count interrupted with wry smile. He went to return to his books once again.

“As you say, _Father.”_ She mockingly shot back. She waited for a moment to see if he’d react to that, if only just a little bit. But her frustration grew a tad when it was clear he was utterly unfazed by the title, continuing on in his books without so much as a raised eyebrow.

She grumbled again, and turned to leave the library.

“And please do not forget to eat before you leave, my daughter.” He called after her.

She froze in the doorway, and took a moment to glance back at him; her face full of surprise.

His reading was as focused as it always was, but he did pause to look up when he noticed her watching.

“Something wrong?” He asked, and the very end of his mouth seemed to twist _ever_ so slightly in a smile that almost looked….devious. 

“N-no…” She replied shakily, the surprise lining her face beginning to tinge just slightly with mortification.

She thought the damned vampire elf would be too _serious_ to give much of a reaction, let alone _throw her comment back in her face._

“Then by all means: do try to make me proud out there.” He turned the page and returned to his books, still with that damnable little smile. 

“I---“ Elyssa closed her mouth almost as soon as she’d opened it, before she said anything she might later come to regret, and decided it was far better to just turn around and walk away.

She could hear Gwendis’ muffled, gentle laughter beside her as she passed the coffins, and it only made her more determined to try and keep the red from her face from showing; it was likely most of the vampiric members of the household had overheard. 

Melina, too, seemed to struggle with her own smile as Elyssa passed her.

“Oh,” Melina said. “I believe Ophelia made some honey bread this morning, if that pleases you, dear sister.”

“ _Shut up_.” Elyssa muttered back, and made haste for the guest room before either of them could comment further.

She ignored the tray of alchemy bottles that had been set aside for her on the table, deciding she could figure out the logistics of safely storing them in her pack later. Once safely within the walls of her temporary bedroom, she made a beeline for her gear. 

She was quickly getting used to putting it on; the intricacies that went into the chainmail underside and the straps that accompanied the plate outer layer did not seem to trouble her as much as it did weeks ago. 

Her feet brought her to stand in front of the mirror, admiring her work. She looked almost like a real soldier. 

_Honorary member of the Lion Guard, Elyssa Arboretum._

The memory of the guard announcing this while offering the suit of tailored armor played in her head. It was to be expected: in spite of all the things she had (somehow) managed to accomplish, she wasn’t _actually_ a soldier. She had no training in their regiment…nor was she even technically a citizen of High Rock. 

_‘You’re footwork is sloppy and you leave too many openings’_

_‘It seems the Divines do more than simply gift you powerful light magic: it appears they’re also the only things that are keeping you alive’_

These new words began to rotate in her head, churning into doubts. 

Most of her opponents, thus far, had either been werewolves overcome by their animalistic desires, nature corrupting spirits, mindless zombies, or clumsy bandits and disorganized cultist members…None of them had combat styles that could be comparable to word “finesse”. So her usual method of brute forcing her way with powerful spears of light magic before swinging her greatsword around in a haphazard manner had always worked out. Tactics, strategy, and footwork were never things she ever thought about on a regular basis.

Even with Angof the Gravesinger...he almost seemed like the more she fought with him, the more he just…gave up. As if his motivation to defeat her was shriveling away like the very vines he failed to grow. Most of his necromantic abilities didn’t stand a chance against the element of light; she barely even needed to concentrate to sweep the floor clear of his zombies. They faded to dust almost as soon as she touched them with even the dimmest glow of her power. And that wasn’t even mentioning the fact that she had plenty of help at her side at the time…

….

...What if she’d just been lucky so far in her opponents?

That all of her “deeds” were nothing more than the culmination of her brute forcing her own “prodigy-like” magic and having the “Gods’ luck” on her side?

…..

….Was she _actually_ making a difference?

She struck a pose in the mirror, hoping to look impressive decked out in her armor…but her rounded cheeks and short stature did nothing to wipe away the traditional, youthful appearance of a Breton.

Why couldn’t she have inherited at least a _little_ of her Imperial father’s more chiseled features?

She stuck her tongue out at herself, and was greeted with an even _more_ childish sight as a result. Fully frustrated, she grabbed her pack and stuck a few of her things in it.

She frowned at the alchemy bottles; it was times like these that she wished she had a bigger protective bottle case in her pack. She was grateful that he made her so much, but there was just a few too many to fit. 

And she was hungry. 

…She huffed, and decided she’d have to figure out the problem of the bottles later. 

As she made her way downstairs, she caught sight of Gwendis and Melina chatting at the dining table; Gwendis finally appeared to have made it off her coffin. Elyssa was _almost_ tempted to throw a teasing comment at her for that. 

Further downstairs was the basement level. 

She’d been told it was always kept locked, mostly so that the household (both vampire and servant) could have a place of privacy away from any visiting guests. The main kitchen was down there, however, and so she found herself knocking at the basement door. 

“Why good morning to you, Elyssa!” The cheerful face of an older, gray haired Imperial woman greeted her.

“Good morning, Ophelia. Melina told me you have some honey bread all made up?”

“I do. I do indeed; my lady must have smelled it from the hall. Come in, sweetie, and I’ll cut you a few slices.”

The basement of Ravenwatch castle was, perhaps, even more homely than its main hall. Reminiscent of the guest suite, there were no gargoyle statues or eclectic furnishings (save for the two coffins in the center of the room, one of which had to be Melina’s). A roaring fireplace lit up the place brighter than the other rooms, perhaps for the benefit of the servants as they had their own separate room nearby. 

Workstations filled with alchemy ingredients and enchanting components lined the walls. A mysterious door to an even deeper cellar was in the far corner (she was told it was strictly forbidden to anyone not of the House; and that only made her slightly more curious about it). Finally, there was a full kitchen to the side; much nicer than the kitchenette of the upstairs guest suite. 

Ophelia wasn’t the only servant awake; the others were out and about as well.

The Breton, Estelle, was by the fire, working on some sort of sewing. She was the only one Elyssa hadn’t formally met; they told her she was of a skittish disposition, particularly around strangers. From what was mentioned, the Count had found and rescued her from bandits who had badly abused her. Until she got used to a new person, it was advised for that individual to leave her alone unless absolutely necessary.

Anise, a Bosmer, was at the nearby dining table, a table that was a much smaller twin to the grander one of the main hall. She….definitely looked like she was still asleep, her small head propped up by her arms at the table. Narcolepsy was something Ophelia had mentioned; apparently Anise had trouble finding someone to hire her in a ‘traditional’ job because of her condition. But the household wasn’t perturbed by the idea of narcolepsy, and had hired her practically on the spot the moment she revealed she was perfectly comfortable with the idea of serving vampires. 

Ophelia herself was busy cutting an impressively large portion of an equally impressively large loaf of sweet smelling bread. Elyssa recalled that when she had previously asked what the Imperial thought about living here, the older woman had merely scoffed. For Ophelia, it was just tradition; her family had served House Ravenwatch for a handful of generations. She had literally _grown up_ in the castle. So, naturally, she was quite fine with it all. 

Kalin, one of the ones Elyssa had spoken to the most (but ironically knew the least about), was lounging about at the wall near the kitchen, eyeing her carefully. The only information she had on the Dunmer was that he was the oldest and longest serving of all the mortals who stayed there. 

“So our guest yet lives…” He said, that slow sardonic drawl of his hanging in the air. “Do tell; how does it feel knowing you survived a night in a vampire’s stronghold?”

“Got better sleep here than in most inn rooms.” She responded, grinning. “You all seem to get along really well with each other.”

He laughed. “Indeed….we’re quite…. _close_ with each other…”

“Kalin,” Ophelia warned.

“Some of us …. _closer_ …than others.”

“ _Kalin_.”

“You might even say it’s a regular _Ebony Flask_ around here--”

Ophelia banged her knife down flat with a loud _clunk_ , staring him down with a none-too pleased grimace.

“What’s an Ebony Flask?” Elyssa asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“Now you see? She’s only going to start asking more questions…” Ophelia said.

“What…Is it something bad?”

“Not at all…” Kalin continued, an exceptionally _wolfish_ grin lining his face. “Ophelia is only upset because sometimes even she—“

“That’s it!” Ophelia pointed her knife at him from afar. “You. Out of my kitchen!”

“My work here is done…” Kalin stated in monotone, impish grin still on his lips as he strolled out the basement doors. 

He held it open for Gwendis, who had found her way downstairs.

“Gwendis!” Elyssa approached her “Kalin said it’s like a regular Ebony Flask around here; what does that mean?”

Whatever emotion Gwendis’ face had before vanished as she stared off into the distance with pursed lips. She took a deep breath through her nose…

….Then turned and walked right back through the basement doors again.

“Wha- _Gwendis_?!”

“Never you mind that, sweetie.” Ophelia interjected with an almost strangled voice. “Why don’t you come and have some breakfast? I made you some eggs and bacon too; I think you could use the protein, going out to fight as you do. Might even put a little meat on those bones.”

Melina was next to come through the doors, clutching her satchel of runes and yawning all the while. And Elyssa immediately abandoned her breakfast plate to jump on the opportunity.

“Melina! Kalin talked about an ‘Ebony Flask’. What does he mean by that?”

Melina paused mid yawn, a curious expression forming on her face. 

“Oh Elyssa…” She sighed. “I’m afraid I’m much too tired to have this conversation. We can have this talk _after_ I’ve taken my rest…”

“My lady, I _must_ protest!” Ophelia exclaimed.

Melina gained a rather mischievous smile at Ophelia’s outburst. “Very well. We can have this talk after I’ve taken my rest AND after Ophelia has gone to bed.”

“ _My lady, **please**.”_

Elyssa grinned as Melina gave her a little wink. Seeing that, Ophelia’s protestations started to die down into more of a sputter.

“ _Herding cats around here…”_ Elyssa could hear Ophelia mutter under her breath as the older woman re-doubled her cleaning efforts. “ _Some days, I swear…”_

But Elyssa was far more interested in what Melina was doing: heading towards one of the stone coffins in the main area of the room. 

Melina caught sight of her following close behind. 

“Curious, are we?” She asked with a slightly amused smile.

“I just want to see what’s in it.” Elyssa beamed back at her.

“What might you _think_ is in it?” Melina cocked her head slightly.

“I…” Elyssa tried to think of all the vampire stories she knew. Which wasn’t very helpful. She knew they supposedly slept in coffins, but she never really heard any stories about what they slept _with_. “…Jewels?”

The lady vampire laughed. “I’m not a dragon!”

The coffin lid scraped across its base as she moved it, revealing a cushioned lining, a small horde of pillows and a patterned blanket. Though the outside was drab stone, the inside looked…rather homey. For a coffin.

“Not quite what you were hoping for?” Melina asked, as it seemed she noticed her dismay. 

“I don’t know.” Elyssa frowned. “Why not just sleep in a bed then?”

The vampire bit at her lower lip in contemplation. 

“Well…I can’t speak for the others…But in _my_ case…” She shifted uncomfortably. “I--the first days of my _new life_ were spent constantly under threat from the sun, even when I tried to sleep…. _especially_ when I tried to sleep. I developed a bit of a phobia for it. And after a while, I just started to feel… _more at ease_ in places that were dark and enclosed.”

She fondly traced the edges of the lid. “Sleeping in a box of some sort is the easiest way to accomplish that. But they don’t usually make human shaped cargo boxes...And asking for one would likely raise too many questions…But coffins…”

The vampire waved towards her open resting place.

“...Coffins are requested all the time. Even coffins ordered to your exact specifications; no one ever bats an eye over measurements…It’s a convenience, really.”

“So…you _could_ sleep in a bed if you wanted to?”

“The bed itself certainly wouldn’t kill us. But….our reactions aren’t always fast when we’re groggy and it’s the middle of the day, so if someone were to open the drapes on any of us while we lay exposed and slumbering…”

“But all of the windows here are glazed over; I could open all the drapes in the castle and the sun _still_ wouldn’t touch you…And I mean…there can’t be _that_ many people who would do something that horrible to you in the first place…”

“That’s very sweet of you to say, Elyssa.” Melina smiled kindly. “It isn’t true, and I think you know that, but it’s very sweet of you to say nonetheless. There are plenty of people out there who wouldn’t hesitate…so…Just…think of the coffin in the same way you’d think of a stuffed toy that a child would cling to; it brings me comfort and assurance to know the sun can’t touch me so long as I’m inside.”

“I’m guessing you’re going to sleep now?” Elyssa watched as Melina kicked off her shoes and settled down among the bright interior of her coffin. 

“Mmmm…Indeed. I just simply can’t keep my eyes open any longer…” She sighed happily as she nuzzled one of her pillows. “Won’t you be a dear and close my lid for me?”

“Wait…” Elyssa gestured to the coffin opposite of hers. “Before I do, I wanted to ask: there’s five coffins total, but I thought there was only four of you…”

“Oh…that one would belong to my dear, sweet brother…” Melina lazily said, already with half lidded eyes. “You won’t likely meet him; he’s gone and locked himself in the cellar. Out of abundance of caution, mostly. He’s been having difficulties these days, and…oh, well, he’s such a sweetheart; he’d do _anything_ to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone…”

“I see….” Elyssa said, suddenly solemn as she stared out towards the cellar hatch. “I hope he feels better.”

“Indeed, as do I. I so hate to think of him stuck down there, but it _was_ his choice and my Lord approved…”

She let out another yawn. “Ah…oh, excuse me. I’m so sorry, Elyssa. But I must really bid you a good day; I cannot possibly stay awake a moment longer. Please promise you’ll stay safe. I’ve already become a bit fond of you, and I would hate it terribly if you were injured….”

“I’ll promise I’ll _try_ not to die. Have a good night…erm…I mean day. Have a good day, Melina.”

Melina gave her one last, sweet smile as Elyssa pushed close the lid. 

…It was a lot heavier than anticipated. 

She had to shove her shoulder against it just to get it shut. The clunk of the stone finding the indentation on its base was louder than she’d thought it would be and caused her to jump.

Giving one last look towards the cellar hatch, as if expecting another vampire to appear any moment, Elyssa went back to the table. Eggs, bacon, and honey bread were shoveled down as fast as she could manage. 

~~~

She walked out of the basement a little too full; Ophelia had insisted on giving her a second helping of eggs and bacon, and had even tried for a third. Given the sort of conversations that had accompanied breakfast, Elyssa had a nagging feeling that the older woman had been desperately trying to distract her from Ebony Flasks. And, of course, that did nothing but make her more curious. 

Chances were, Ophelia would manage to talk Melina out of explaining it later. 

So instead of heading towards the front door with her pack, she made a quick beeline for Gwendis, who had gone back to lounging atop her coffin.

“Psst….Gwendis? Gwendis, what’s an Ebony Flask?” She gave the vampire a few pokes in the arm that was covering her eyes. The skin was oddly cold compared to a mortal’s. 

…And the vampire didn’t budge.

“I know you know. You had that look on your face when I asked about it before, so don’t think you can pretend otherwise.”

And the vampire _still_ didn’t budge.

“Aww come on. You can’t be asleep _already_. And even if you were, there’s a tasty mortal inches from your face nudging you with her fingers. If that doesn’t wake up a vampire, I don’t know what would. So what’s an Ebony Flask? Is it a type of skooma? Do you all get together to use skooma? I won’t judge; I promise.” 

She could see Gwendis’ lips twitching against her pale face, but otherwise she continued to remain still.

Elyssa huffed. “ _Fine_. Be that way. I give up. Have a good nigh—day. Day! Ugh. _Whatever_.”

She passed by Verandis’ study on her way out. He was still in there, working away at his books, as usual. Elyssa was partly tempted to go in and ask _him_ about Ebony Flasks and what that had to do with House Ravenwatch.

But she was still too irritated at him to even make the attempt, and that pushed all other thoughts away; so much so that she simply headed outside without so much as a ‘goodbye’ to him. 

The bright sun greeted her as soon as she pushed open the heavy oak doors. She stopped to stretch out as she basked in the warmth. 

“Hey don’t forget…” Gwendis’ voice came echoing through the halls behind her, proving that she _hadn’t_ been asleep after all, “…Watch out for the weregoats out there.”

Elyssa’s irritation was matched only by the intensity of how hard she slammed their front door shut. 

“ _I hate you all_.” She muttered under her breath. Not that she _completely_ meant it. 

But her irritation only grew further as she noticed a bloodfiend at the edge of town, happily gorging itself on a dead citizen. 

…

……It _was_ like breathing; such an apt description that Verandis had given her earlier that it became hard for her to think of it otherwise.

Warmth filled the tips of her fingers, a growing sensation that shifted through her palm like a liquid. 

Coalescing. Expanding. An extension of her arm, of her will. She often found she only needed to hold the image of a spear in her mind for it to form. And with two steps taken, her momentum helped to send the whole thing forward, hurling through the air.

What was only mere moments resulted in a motionless bloodfiend, a bright spear of solid-like light skewered into its chest. 

Unfortunately, it seemed she attracted some attention; another figure lurking in the shadows manifested itself right next to the dead bloodfiend. She readied herself another spear….

…Only to then dissipate the light in her hands when _she realized the second figure had cat ears_. 

And she winced when a rather irate Adusa-daro came towards her. 

“H-Hi…Adusa….” She nervously greeted.

“Adusa would appreciate…” The Khajiit began with a glower. “…If the young one would please stop throwing such powerful holy magic so close to this one’s fur…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I just didn’t see you there when you’re dressed in all black like that!”

“Yes yes; this is exactly the sort of thing Adusa is worried about…” Adusa grumbled, but she didn’t actually seem _too_ upset at her. 

Then again, it was difficult to tell; the Khajiit’s black and flowing cloak was surely thick enough to ensure no sunlight ever peaked through, and most definitely dark enough to obscure any body language. It looked to be made of the same fine material as the one she’d seen Verandis wear the other day, and she was sure that, like Verandis’, it held a dark grey outline of their house crest on the back as well.

…Although Verandis’ cloak didn’t exactly have cat ear protrusions on the hood; that would have been a definite improvement. (She made a mental note to herself to tell him to get some cat ears on his cloak. Since he was so eager to give her ‘suggestions’ before, he surely wouldn’t mind receiving ‘suggestions’ in return.). 

Elyssa frowned as she attempted to figure out where among the bloodfiends the vampire had been lurking. She only found more bloodfiends.   
Which only made her frown _more_ because…well…. _bloodfiends_.

“How can you stand all this going on right outside your doorstep? With these poor people like….like this…?”

She vigorously gestured towards a few of the creatures shambling close by. 

“Patience, young one. Tell this one; what is the most important thing we must focus on?”

“Killing Montclair?”

“Yes, good. And what else?”

Elyssa strained herself to think: what else was there besides killing Montclair and dispatching bloodfiends?

“….Er…Killing Montclair…a second time…?”

Adusa groaned. “ _The living_ , Elyssa. Living people are important, yes? We must kill Montclair and make sure any living survivors are safe. These are the two most important of all things that we must do.”

She could hear the khajiit grunt in disgust as she waved towards the bloodfiends.

“These….creatures. They can wait until later…The dead will _always_ be here later…The living? Not so much.”

“Sorry; I guess I just took it for granted that we’d help the survivors. I mean…why _wouldn’t_ we? But these bloodfiends here…they _do_ still bother you…right?” Elyssa asked in a quiet voice.

Adusa was in the process of taking down fabric around the face area, which suggested that the cloak, like typical Breton hoods, had a built in face mask. 

“We may not have always spoken much to the people here…” Adusa said. Pain on her face as cat-like eyes scanned over the town. “But the ones of Crestshade…they were good people. They do not deserve such a fate. It is….very, _very_ difficult to watch. These townsfolk deserve to be put to rest, and not wander like filthy beasts.”

“Is there a chance that Montclair would use these ones for his army?”

The khajiit shook her head. 

“Look at them, young one. They are baking in the sun, and they do not even realize it hurts…Montclair would not win this war on the backs of freshly burnt carcasses falling to pieces. No, the bloodfiends sent here were clearly only meant to coax the people out of their homes and scattered on the winds. To turn to the curse any of those who could not make it out…less people he would have to cow to his would-be rule…”

Adusa’s fangs protruded as she softly snarled, her ears hunched back. “…This one also thinks he may have been trying to _mock_ us a little as well…Send bloodfiends to attack the town while we all were away as an _insult_ to all of our efforts…” 

Elyssa remained silent.

She didn’t know how to respond except to look out again amongst the bloodfiends stumbling across the ground…

Their bodies _did_ seem like they were coming apart at the seams; many of them had sun wounds that burrowed straight through their skin, creating gaping holes that only hindered their movements more. 

“We must rest and work and focus on the two most important things, Elyssa. Never forget the priorities. And speaking of which: Adusa is glad to have caught you before you left. She has need of you. You will help, yes?”

“What needs to be done?”

“Adusa has been scouting to see how far Montclair’s army has taken its curse, how far it has spread. They have taken over a small town called Moira’s Hope in the south. This one could smell the blood of the living there...but there are also many, _many_ bloodfiends as well. She will need help to cut a path through…and perhaps help with the survivors as well; they are more likely to trust a fellow mortal than Adusa, and there may be need to get them out quickly…”

“Right! I’m with you; I just need to go and get Justice ready…”

“Justice?” Adusa followed Elyssa around back to their stables.

“My horse.”

“…Is that not…How does one say? ‘A little on the nose’?”

“Oh _I_ didn’t name her that. That was the name she came with. If you can believe it, I got her _for free_ from this cranky old Imperial man.” Elyssa’s face screwed up as she recalled the memory. “All eight of his horses were white Imperial thoroughbreds, and ALL of them were named Justice….”

Adusa looked at her with incredulity. “…Did he not have trouble telling them apart?”

“He was so angry; I was afraid to ask too many questions.” She flashed Adusa a nervous smile. 

“Very generous, a whole horse….”

“I don’t think he could afford to take care of them all after he’d been displaced from the war. And I think he was also looking to help other citizens of Cyrodiil, because he only offered her to me when he found out I was a fellow refugee…”

Her comment cut short and her muscles tensed up when she came face to face… _with him_.

He was hanging out, casually, by the awning of the stables, right next to Justice.

He lifted his head to watch her as she approached.

Her arch-nemesis.

The bane of her existence.

_The damned goat._

Her blue eyes narrowed in on him; her stance braced for impact.

He stared back, creepy little sideways pupils watching her as if to size her up.

She took a few sidesteps to the right, maintaining eye contact.

He mirrored her maneuver, his soft bleating filled with obvious faux innocence. 

She stopped. 

He stopped.

The irritating fiend was playing hardball.

Slowly, she inched her way towards her horse, eyes dead center on her foe in anticipation of the slightest mo—

“What...” Adusa’s voice intervened, “…In the name of the blessed moons are you doing?”

“Your goat is pure ev—“

Only a moment; Elyssa had only looked away from her dreaded foe _for a_ _moment_ , and the beast, sensing weakness, lowered its horned head to charge. Just barely was she able to escape the horror of it all by scrambling up the stable post with a yelp. 

Adusa stood where she was, her arms crossed, and surveyed the scene with eyes aglow with amusement.

“Hibiscus must like you. She does not usually react in such a manner with anyone else…”

“You call this _liking_?” Elyssa grimaced as she clung to the stable post and tried to shoo the goat away by waving one foot while trying to balance on the other. “Look at the eyes, Adusa! Those are the eyes of a bloodthirsty creature who has killed before…and will kill again!” 

“Speaking as one who knows bloodthirsty creatures, Adusa can assure that Hibby is both safe and does _not_ consume blood,” Adusa began to make her way back around the castle. “This one will see you at Moira’s Hope, then.”

“Wha-you’re leaving me??!” Hibiscus the goat was already making the attempt to scale up the stable walls just to get to her enemy.

“Adusa has every confidence you can handle little Hibby. If not, Hibby’s treat bag is at the right of yourself. Feed her no more than three whole apples; a fat Hibby would make Anise very concerned.”

And with a wave over her shoulder, the hooded Adusa was gone. 

Elyssa turned to her adversary. 

“So….You’re a girl goat, huh? That’s quite a coincidence. I happen to be a girl human. We have _so_ much in common; _please_ _stop trying to kill me_.”

The horizontal goat pupils didn’t seem to falter, and she idly wondered if goats were carnivorous.

Her fingers strained as she tried to reach the treat bag, but she only ended up in an awkward, stretched out position with her torso still at the post and the weight of her upper half held up by her reaching fingers. She looked at her horse, who was calmly grazing at a pile of hay.

“A little help?” She asked, not actually expecting her horse to respond.

Sure enough, the horse stared back at her, unfazed and ignorant of her situation, before dipping its head to take in another mouthful of hay.

“First Adusa, now you; the double betrayal hurts just a little bit.” She said, purposefully overdramatic. If only to make herself feel better about the whole situation.

The goat seemed to be getting impatient, as it begun to ram its horned head against the sides of the stable. As if to try and knock her down.

“I have to wonder if you really _are_ trying to kill me…” Elyssa winced as she made a solid lunge for an apple peeking out of the leather bag. Another effortful motion and an apple was tossed as far away as she could manage.

It was a gift from the Gods that Hibby’s priorities involved eating first and everything else second; Elyssa was finally free to drop down. Not necessarily in an elegant way, given her strained position; she ended up with a face full of hay, with her horse making the move to try and lick it off her face. 

Straightened up with hay brushed off, she moved to get her horse’s tack on as quick as she possibly could before the demonic goat got back. Part of which required giving a jealous Justice an apple of her own to get her to cooperate. 

Her weapons and pack at the ready, she hoisted herself up atop her steed; just in time to watch a distraught Hibby cower from Justice’s mightier hooves. Up high on a horse, she felt a bit more like a knight, regardless of whatever her image in the mirror had shown her before. 

Ready to take on the world itself.

A click of the tongue and a flick of the reins, and she was well on her way. 

Racing past the bloodfiends as the sun shone in the sky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold of you to assume Verandis wouldn’t adopt your rebellious mortal ass, Elyssa.
> 
> ~~  
> ~~~~~  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> I actually had a mock up done of the Castle Ravenwatch basement/lower floor on the PTS using Daggerfall Overlook. I’m not sure if anyone would be interested enough in it for me to post a pic of it though.  
> I really hope ZOS comes up with a house crest for House Ravenwatch soon; otherwise I will have to make my own…
> 
> I know it may not seem like it from this chapter, but I actually have fallen madly in love with Fennorian. But it doesn’t technically appear during the Rivenspire questline, and I actually want Elyssa’s first time meeting him to be during her visit to Western Skyrim and doing something like the Bound in Blood quest.
> 
> The goat: It’s more of an inside joke I have with myself. When I was going through the Rivenspire questline for the first time, I noticed that there’s a goat that appears behind Ravenwatch Castle. At first, I thought it coincided the appearance and disappearance of Kalin. So I made a joke to myself that Kalin IS the goat. (Later I found out the goat’s appearance has nothing to do with whether or not Kalin the NPC is around. Still, I thought it would be funny to poke at that idea in the fic). 
> 
> I have a problem with the Stormhaven storyline and this idea that you have to have this specific potion made with the Dream Shard just to avoid dreams. For the purposes of this story, I’m going to re-write that part so that the Dream Shard created potion is only to prevent Vaermina’s magic from interfering with your dreams specifically, and that there are likely plenty of other alchemy potions (sleep potions) that could prevent dreams (but not necessarily prevent Vaermina or her followers from affecting your sleep or giving you nightmares anyways). I just wanted to make that distinction. 
> 
> While I wouldn’t doubt Vaermina might torment the Vestige in their sleep as a payback, I doubt the Daedric Prince would care enough to do it constantly (just the feeling that I got when I finished the Stormhaven questline was that Vaermina wasn’t too perturbed by being thwarted. Her “imprisoning” the Vestige in her realm was half-hearted as well; you could easily leave. Like she had much bigger fish to fry than you).
> 
> In regards to House Ravenwatch and sexuality again: I wanted to state more bluntly that No, I do not think the vampiric family members have sex with each other because they keep referring to each other as "brother" and "sister" (and to Verandis as "father") in canon. Yes, I know they're probably not ACTUALLY related to each other, but still. Instead, I think they have rampant naked parties with fully willing fully adult mortal participants. Let's be honest: there's got to be at least as many mortals in Tamriel who think vampires are hot as there are people in our world that think vampires are hot...Also. You know. Kalin. Half naked. On the table. Just saying. 
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: Elyssa Arboretum is NOT the actual name of my character. I changed her last name for this story because...well....I'm a little shy. If you ever meet someone in game that has a name similar but not exact, it MIGHT be me. I usually like being on my own, as social situations can cause me great stress (especially if they're strangers). I am so sorry, and I greatly appreciate your understanding...


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